


When our land turns to ash, will you still be there?

by redheqd



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Clay | Dream & Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Family Fluff, Family Issues, Father Figures, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghostbur, Hybrids, Insane Wilbur Soot, Karl Jacobs Needs a Hug, Memory Loss, Other, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Poetry, Raccoon Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Raccooninnit, Sad Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Sick Character, Sickfic, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Teleportation, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), fish hybrid wilbur soot, no beta we like wilbur soot, ranboo & karl & ghostbur share memory problems, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheqd/pseuds/redheqd
Summary: One-shots, drabbles, headcannons and ideas that I needed to write down!This will be a longer book, centering different characters and events each chaptercurrently on a short break<3
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Ranboo, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

hello!

this book is going to be one-shots, maybe two-shots, since I have ideas and thoughts I thought were worthy of sharing but too short to be a seperate book.

any requests, prompts or ideas are very welcome!

**what i will do:**

angst

fluff

family

certain ships

i will of course only write about those CCs that have stated that they are okay with SFW fanfictions!

**what i will not do:**

NSFW, especially not with those characters that are minors

heavy gore

any weirdchamp stuff

hope you have a good day! <3


	2. the rise and fall of a loving brother (wilbur-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not necessarily following a certain plot, more of a character study of Wilbur (and additionally, ghostbur)  
> -  
> Wilbur was a loving person.  
> He had loved his brothers, he had loved his father, he had loved his family. He had loved soft music on sunny days and he had loved hot chocolate during rainstorms.  
> Wilbur had loved L’Manburg, but his country had not loved him back.

Wilbur Soot, the second eldest son of Philza Minecraft.   
Known for his songs and for his wit. His big heart and his ambitious dreams.   
  
Before all the war, before the explosions and the intoxicating smoke, before the ringing in his ears and the voices in his head had became so loud, before the betrayal and the insanity, Wilbur had also been a kid.   
  
He was quite a mischievous kid, at that. 

Wilbur’s childhood had been quite a good one. Vivid, warm, fuzzy memories of the soft strumming of a guitar in front of a fireplace, the smell of tea and honey and the feeling of childish drowsiness had been something he’s always had with him.   
As Wilbur grew, so did his family. He and his only older brother Techno Blade had realised quickly that their father had quite a habit of adopting children.  
At first came a young, loud and bratty little kid by the name Thomas Innit, although the nickname Tommy was apparently preferred.  
Lastly, a shy, tiny boy called Tubbo joined the family.   
Wilbur had been just as ecstatic every time a new person had been brought to their warm home, and every time had he made sure they’d feel welcomed. 

The years went, and his youngest brother was in his way to leave the house. Tommy, his own baby brother, invited to the Dream SMP by Dream himself.   
Techno had seemed nonchalant, but his quarrels with Dream were well known. Tommy had promised to behave. 

It didn’t take long until Wilbur got invited too. 

In an act of brotherly mischievousness, rebellion towards Dream and brainstorming, Wilbur and Tommy created their own country. Their own land. Their own home. Tubbo, never leaving their side, joined in.   
And so the wars started. 

Despite what you could think of Wilbur, he did have a son. Wilbur promised Fundy the world and the moon, and he promised his son that their country would never die. The land they stood on would always, and always, be their L’Manburg. 

Alas, there was a traitor among them.

And Wilbur Soot lost his first life in the Final Control Room.   
  


Their land being blown to smithereens, their hopes crushed and their lives now at stake, Wilbur promised not only justice but also independence.   
The wars became more and more. More people joined. More faces and names were introduced, but Wilbur was still the same.   
He had put his mind to something, he’ll achieve it by any means.

  
New faces and new people didn’t interest Wilbur much, but then a certain alcoholic goat had showed up in a suit and tie. 

Jschlatt. An aggressive, apathetic dictator who would eventually come around to die a tragically anti-climax death.   
  


Wilbur lost his second life executed by the new president.   
The memories of the maniac laughter, his heart thumping hard in his chest, his brother looking so terrified, so _young_. His son watching, horrified. Friends, enemies, everybody watching him die. Watching him fail. 

After that, something in Wilbur snapped. 

Banished, exiled from his own country. Trapped in a dark and filthy ravine. The everlasting sound his own footsteps echoing on the walls drove him insane.  
Wilbur watched as his own son burned down the flag of the country that Wilbur had built for him. He watched as Fundy tore down the walls built to protect him. Wilbur watched as Fundy left him, and Fundy didn’t look back. 

The festival had been a happy event turned nightmare. And Wilbur and Tommy could do nothing but watch as their best friend was outed and executed by Techno. 

For a period of time, Wilbur lived in a blur. He couldn’t do anything but listen as the voices in his head grew louder, his paranoia made him scared of shadows and his anger towards Manburg grew bigger.   
So he did what he thought was well needed, he planned to kill Schlatt.   
And it turned out rather easy, and everybody seemed surprisingly happy about it.   
  


But Wilbur Soot had plans. 

He knew they could never rule again. He knew Tommy would never become president. Maybe he had listened to the voices for too long, but he needed to prove it to everybody once and for all.   
The TNT hidden everywhere in the now much bigger L’Manburg had been carefully placed by Wilbur himself, planned to show his brother that he’d never be president.   
  
So during the Election Day, he hid. 

The button in front of him was so small. It could cause his whole country to disappear in the simple flick of a finger.   
  


Did he really want this? 

For a split second, Wilbur hesitated. 

This nation, this home had been something that Wilbur had once seen as happy and carefree.   
Now it was dark, the flames of war always lit and the smell of smoke and ash becoming too thick for him to breathe in.   
This was not L’Manburg. And if be couldn’t have L’Manburg, no one would. 

But then, Tommy didn’t become president. Tubbo was elected. Wilbur backed down from the button. Hands shaking, pupils dashing back and forth, sweat pearling on his forehead.  
No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

He gripped his blood-stained shirt almost hysterically, nausea washed over him.   
What was he doing?   
  
Happy voices from outside taunted him. The writing on the wall and the whispers in the back of his mind told him to press the button. Press it and it’ll all be gone. It’ll all finally be gone.

Then, his father entered the room. Wings expanded, a disappointed and betrayed look on his face. And Wilbur felt like a kid again.   
He didn’t even notice that the happy laughters from outside had turned to screams of fear and explosions. 

Phil had yelled, and Wilbur cried.  
Tears of sorrow, tears of frustration. Tears of a man who had lost the one thing he loved the most.  
  
Wilbur had pressed the button, and winced as the his ears rang. 

He smiled through his tears and embraced his father in a hug, chuckling bitterly through the pain as the sword impaled him.

He smiled as he lost his last life to his own father, killing him on his own command.   
  


And then, he woke up.   
  


But now, he was different.   
  


He was still Wilbur, but half of him was gone.   
  


For he had still the memories of love, but the memory of war and suffering was gone.   
Now, love and happiness, soft songs and rays of sunshine were the only things he remembered.   
  
What many people failed to realise was that Wilbur was and always were a loving person.   
  
He had loved his brothers, he had loved his father, he had loved his family.  
He had loved soft music on sunny days and he had loved hot chocolate during rainstorms.   
  
Wilbur had loved L’Manburg, but his country had not loved him back.

  
An unrequited love, forever to be unanswered.   
An unfinished symphony, forever unfinished.


	3. i’m a professional (purpled-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Idea from a request, although I did it slightly different)  
> -
> 
> Bedwars is the most popular illegal battle-arena, a voilent game that got banned from almost everywhere.  
> Purpled is almost never seen around the SMP. He’s said to hang out on other places. What one doesn’t know is that one of those places is called Hypixel, one of the few remaining servers that managed to still have bedwars going.  
> Purpled thought no one would ever find out where he was all day, until Dream confronts him one day.

Bedwars. The most popular illegal battle arena, a voilent game that's gotten banned from almost everywhere.   
Bedwars was known for being a brutal game where the last one alive would win. The players were skilled and apathetic, perfectly fine with killing other people as long as it guaranteed a chance for victory. Money, tools, weapons, power, people would bet anything to see their favourite win.  
These brutal slaughters had been forbidden since long ago, and participating in such games could lead to various punishments that nobody dared to ask about.

Grayson Purpled, more commonly known as just Purpled, was a young and sneaky kid. He's known for being very skilled for his age, a tactical thinker and a quick and flexible fighting style. He was no match for the bigger leagues, but he had his fair share of victories he too. That was part of the reason he got an invitation to the one and only Dream SMP.   
Purpled was also one of the few people who barely interacted on the server.

It was a famous server, albeit filled with war and pain at times. He had tried to socialise, really. But he'd always be pushed aside, ignored. So Purpled resorted back to the games he loved the most. The place he'd learnt all his fighting knowledge from. Hypixel.

Hypixel, a server not known by many, but well known by those who still participated in bedwars. Hypixel was one of the few remaining servers that managed to still have bedwars going. No one knew how, but no one questioned or reported it either.

Purpled knew that it was technically wrong, he'd be labeled as a criminal if he ever got caught in a game. But the adrenaline rush that came with taking someone's bed and killing them, the way one's heart would pound harder and it felt like electricity buzzed through you when you finally got that sweet, sweet victory.   
Purpled would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy bedwars.  
Bedwars was a game for secretive and brutal warriors, and Purpled was a professional.

No one would notice if he snuck off every now and then.  
No one would care if he'd come home with a tiny bloodstain on his shirt.  
No one questioned him on how he possibly got so rich despite rarely being on the server. 

Purpled was fine with that. As long as no one found out, everything would be fine.

Until someone found out. 

It had been a sunny day. Purpled had been hanging out on Dream's SMP for a couple days, not feeling like partaking in any bedwars, just simply chilling at his own place and minding his own business. The recent days had been fairly calm, the common ruckus and loudness had been taken down a notch. Maybe it was the soft summer sun, maybe it was the flowers blooming in the high grass, but it had just been calm and collected on the SMP for once, Purpled thought.

Purpled had decided to take a walk. He'd took his purple hoodie off, tying it around his waist, revealing his t-shirt underneath that had the exact same purple colour as his hoodie. 

He walked carelessly and freely around, going nowhere and waiting for no one. Simply watching the enviroment, taking in the actions around him. He smiled and waved to people, but didn't stay and talk. He simply didn't, that was just how Purpled was. As he took a sharp turn, hand in his pockets, he found himself walking past Tommy's house. The blonde boy was building, or rather _rebuilding_ , his house, paying no mind to the teen who snickered slightly at his distress.

Purpled sighed. This was a nice day. He should come here more often when everyone took a break from the war. 

Purpled was deep into his thoughts, so much so that he didn't see the faint figure of a man with a porcelain white mask call his name. So, the sensation of a hand on his shoulder startled him greatly.

He turned his gaze towards the owner of the hand. Of course, there's only one person who wears a mask with a poorly drawing smile on it on this server. No one other than the admin himself.

"Dream."

Purpled's voice was steady and monotone as ever, not revealing any feelings or thoughts just yet. 

"Purpled."

The familiar, slightly muffled voice responded.

"D'ya want something?"

He said, casual tone making it clear that he was in no mood for a fight. But Dream's tone was still the same, and no sign of even a chuckle came from the older man.

"Purpled, I need to ask you something."

"Shoot. It's not like anyone else can hear us here."

Dream shot a glance towards the direction Purpled had come from, more specifically Tommy's house. But the brit had either gone inside or left, for there was no sign of him left anywhere. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his mask in a swift motion. Purpled could almost hear his heartbeat, it thumped just as loud as it did during a game of bedwars, but this was nothing like that. Purpled had a feeling he knew what this was about.

"Do you play bedwars?"

There it was.

"What? No. Isn't that game banned?"

"Yeah, it is. But-"

"Of course I don't play it."

" **Purpled**."

That tone was not good, the teen knew that much. He didn't meet Dream's eyes, and that was enough for the admin to confirm his suspisions as true.

Now, Dream may be a legend in speedrunning and a good fighter, but bedwars was surprisingly enough something he'd never engaged in. He knew it was banned and, wanting to keep his reputation and popularity, he never even looked at it.

"You know it's forbidden."

Purpled stood almost defensivly, knuckles almost turning white from the strength he was gripping his hands with.

"You don't get it. I'm a professional. I know it's banned, but I know how to play it."

"It's dangerous."

"Not for me."

A silence ensued, it was so loud that Purpled felt like his ears hurt. It took several minutes before either of them started talking. He wasn't normally this upset or emotional in general, but Purpled was just a kid, Dream thought.  
The masked man sighed again. Today was not the day to fight about this. 

"Just- I won't do anything now," Purpled's eyes looked hopeful, his usual wit and fighting spirit returning. "But if I catch you during one of those... games, I will not hesitate to punish you. Got it?" His voice was sharp, but not threatingly so. Purpled winced, but nodded eagerly.

"Got it. Don't worry, I'm a professional."

Something about Purpled was so mysterious, so secretive and so fast-talking that Dream didn't doubt the boy for a second. Purpled knew what power Dream had, lying to an admin is not a smart move. And Purpled is smarter than he lets on.

Nodding to show that the conversation was over, Dream patted the boy on his shoulder and left. Purpled look after him for a second, and then turned on his heel. It'll become dark soon, he'd better head home the same way he came from.   
He passed Tommy's house for the second time that day and the younger boy peeked out as he passed by.

"What's your deal with Dream?"

His voice was curious, and rather loud and brash. Purpled shrugged.

"He just wanted some PVP tips."

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Sure, _the_ Dream wants PVP tips from you. I'm not stupid."

Purpled laughed and Tommy smirked, returning into his newly built house again.  
Purpled turned his gaze forwards and marched back the way he'd came from. 

As he came home, he thought of what to do the next day. He decided to visit his old favourite server, Hypixel. For as long as he doesn’t get caught, he’d never stop playing.


	4. horns of pride (tubbo-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short hiatus, but i willl be posting more now! :]  
> -  
> tubbo's horns are growing in

His horns.

When it came to their horns, bovine hybrids were usually keen on wearing their horns proudly. Their horns showed off their wealth, their strength, their heritage. For a goat like Tubbo, his horns were symbolism of his maturity.   
They were a little different for everybody, but all in all the same. Horns were supposed to be shown off with pride. Horns symbolised a tiny bit of the person’s personality, their soul.   
  
Unlike his older bovine counterparts, Tubbo’s horns weren’t big. Schlatt had big, curled horns, that he had decorated with gold during his time as a ruler in Manberg.  
They were strong, with scratches and scars on various places. Schlatt’s horns showed off his pride, they were big and majestically decorated. But they were also sharp and dangerous, could and had injured people in the past. They had been painful coming in.

The only other bovine creature on the SMP was Puffy. Tubbo looked up to her, oh how he adored her.   
Puffy’s horns were much smaller than Schlatt’s. They were tiny, curled, a bit round even. They were smooth and well-kept. Her horns were stabile and strong, but could never hurt anyone deeply. The two small horns sticking out of her big, fluffy hair reminded slightly of a cliff in the sea. As did Puffy. Her horns showed her heart. Puffy was a cliff in an everlasting sea of war, despair and sadness. Puffy was strong.   
  
Tubbo didn’t get his horns until he was seventeen. Usually hybrids got their horns much earlier, but Tubbo had been happy just to have them. He got them shortly after becoming the new president.   
He was proud to show them off. But he also hated them, for no one could deny the resemblance to Schlatt they had.   
Tubbo hated the way Quackity looked at him with a strangely scared, strangely sad look in his eyes. He hated the way his head had hurt, his forehead throbbing with pain and his eyes bloodshot and heavy from crying and not sleeping. He hated his horns, but he also liked them.

His horns were still growing. They were not near full grown yet. They were stubby and short at first.   
Tubbo was happy as the new president. He tried his best, he really did. All we wanted, all he wished for was the wars to be over. He wanted peace, he wanted love.   
He wanted to be able to go outside without being stared down or be scared.   
Tubbo wasn’t the best, but he was trying.

Things got stressful. Tubbo didn’t want to, but he had to exile his best friend. Tommy’s betrayed look and his dirtied face was burnt into Tubbo’s memory, bleeding through his pride and making him sob. Why did it go this way?   
His horns were becoming more stabile, more sharp. They were still stubby, but now as if though they had become defensive. Ready for a battle at any time.   
  
Tommy was gone, Tubbo’s horns grew sharper and pointed backwards, scarily much like Schlatt but differently so. Schlatt’s horns had been thick, tough as nails, and sharp as nails too. Tubbo’s horns were new, weirdly heavy and uneasy on his head. They were thinner and sensitive.   
But Tommy was gone. Exiled by his best friend. Dream was watching both of them. Tubbo was hollow, empty. A shell. His eyes grey and his face blank. Sometimes he visited Tommy, watching from afar. The ragged clothes and dark eyes made him nauseous. All he wanted was peace. Why was that never easy? He thought, as he tested to poke the tip of his horn, yelping as a tiny wave of pain surged through his finger. He didn’t touch the tip of his horn again.

Then, Doomsday came.

As the fire crackled around the L’Mantree, Tubbo and Tommy’s place. Their bench, their jukebox, their spot, their _everything_ , Tubbo got used to his horns. They didn’t seem to weigh as much anymore, it was white noise to his ears. They felt like him.   
Though the smoke made his eyes water, the explosions made his ears ring and the panicked frenzy he was in made him trip and dirty his favourite suit, he didn’t cry. He had seen this coming. Everyone had. It was never meant to be.   
His horns made him feel as though a new era, a new start was to come. 

Tubbo’s horns didn’t show his pride or his heart. They showed his spirit, his life, his willpower. He was stubborn and optimistic, his horns were thin and not good for fighting, but sharp and curled. They made him look older, more mature. They showed that he wasn’t the kid that once started a nation, the kid that was executed during the festival.   
  
He was Tubbo. He was strong, prideful and clever. 

And as he welcomed his dearest friend Tommy to Snowchester. His new place, his new home, he proudly noted his horns growing bigger.   
Tommy agreed and had said something that made him laugh, Tubbo didn’t quite remember what it was.   
  


Tubbo’s horns weren’t Schlatt spooking around like many had suspected, Tubbo’s horns were his own and only his. They were part of him, and he’d never been more proud of them.


	5. see you soon. (tommy-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy meets wilbur in the afterlife. not ghostbur, not the pogtopia-wilbur. just wilbur, his brother wilbur.  
> -  
> I am still in denial about Tommy’s death, but will I take an opportunity to write comfort? Absolutely.

Light. Blinding, comforting bright light was all that he could see when he opened his eyes. 

Tommy wasn’t sure where he was. He had never been in this place before, but somehow he also felt at home. At peace. He wasn’t sad, or angry. He was confident, comfortable, happy.  
  
Everything was fuzzy. Tommy’s head felt like it was filled with cotton, he was uncharacteristically quiet and calm. His memories were floating in his head, going in different directions, bumping into each other and fading away before he had a chance to stop them. 

Tommy knew two things. One, he was not anywhere near home. Home, L’Manburg, Pogtopia, Pandora’s Vault, Snowchester, L’Mantree. They all bled together, he couldn’t exactly difference one from the other. He knew there were differences, but they were hard to pinpoint. He just knew all places meant something to him. 

The second thing he knew, was that he was utterly and completely dead. The last thing he’d seen before blacking out was a white, dirty mask with a poorly drawn smile on it. It had been stained with blood, his own blood.   
Tommy remembered that face, that smile. Flashing visions of war, fire, explosions, all included that damned smile.

He had half expected to wake up with blood on his nose, a black eye and ragged clothes. But when he looked down, he was pleasantly surprised. His skin was pale and grey, and slightly transparent?  
But not sickeningly so, for his cheeks were still rosy and his eyes were still bright blue. It was just like someone had lowered his opacity, given him a grey hue, toned him down. His hair was still blonde, but in the bright light and with his new grey colour, it looked almost platinum blonde. He scoffed.   
His clothes were all the same, his bandana was still there, there was no blood or scars. Everything was calm.

So, with his blurry mind and unfocused gaze Tommy put two and two together. 

“...Am I in Heaven?” 

His voice was scratchy, it felt unused and weak in his throat. It tasted like ash.

A highpitched laugh entered his ears. A melancholy giggle. He knew that laugh. Tommy’s memories weren’t sharp right now, but he could remember that laugh anywhere. Someone could shake him awake in the middle of the night, and he still would’ve been able to register that tone. It was like music to him. A brotherly, comforting symphony. 

“Not heaven, necessarily. It’s the afterlife. The great beyond. A tiny bit disappointing, innit?” 

Tommy turned around, he just now realised he wasn’t actually standing on anything, but floating in this weird blank space. 

He was met with the sight of Wilbur.   
Not Ghostbur, not Pogtopia-Wilbur, just Wilbur. His brother Wilbur. 

Wilbur smiled. His fluffy hair seemed soft like a cloud in the warm light. His beanie lied safely on his head, his yellow sweater was big and comfortable. In fact, Wilbur’s whole aura seemed to glow yellow. A warm yellow safe space surrounded him, Tommy wanted to be next to him. To hug him and to never leave his side.

Wilbur was a familiar warm yellow. Like the sunset in the summer or the warmth from a fireplace.

Upon seeing Tommy’s face, Wilbur frowned. He was happy to see his little brother again, he just hoped it wasn’t going to happen here. He didn’t want it to happen so soon. 

“Oh, Tommy.”

Two simple words. Tommy began to cry.   
He walked, no, he ran towards Wilbur. Tears streamed down his face. He sobbed, gulped for air and tried to look Wilbur in the eyes despite the fact that the tears were making his vision blurry. And all Wilbur did was stand there, arms outstretched and welcoming the hug that came as Tommy threw himself onto his brother.

They both clung onto each other, as if they would never see each other again. Maybe they wouldn’t, no one knew. But in the moment, they would just hang onto the other and never let go.   
  
Wilbur sighed and spoke again, his voice now breaking at the words and sadness letting itself present.   
He had hoped, prayed that this wouldn’t happen. He’d let himself and everyone else down, but Tommy was better than him. Tommy was red. He was a prideful, energetic red. Upbeat, happy, red. Dark, solemn red. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here so soon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> synesthesia really helps you write sometimes huh 👀


End file.
